The Betrayed Wife's Ruthless Mafia Comeback

a De Lu

ing punctuation mark on a ten-billion-dollar acquisition. The final page of the agre

dregs bitter on my tongue, but I drank it anyway. The caffeine was a n

e to the De Luca empire. This single drive held enough leverage to secure my position in this family for an

n rug in the hallway was so thick it swallowed the sound of my heels, a

s, their painted eyes cold and judgmental. They were a constant reminde

ive gesture to ensure I was flawless, even at tw

of his study when I heard it. A laugh

d. The laugh was

itched, laced with a tri

iaz. My husband's very pu

his study-the nerve center of the family's legitima

the cold metal of the ledger

y pace steady, bu

ndulgence I had never, not once, heard directed at me. "You

scared. What's he going to do to you

raise turned

t not to my humiliation. I could picture the scene inside perfectly: the rumpled sof

n my hand. My war prize. My pr

n around, pretend I heard nothing. Or I could knock, th

s began to crack. A pain, sharp a

thing, followed by a soft

key turning a loc

by a flood of raw, undiluted rage. I was no longer the family's

nock. My fingers closed aro

my arm, steadying me,

see with my own eyes how he gr

hesitating, and with a sharp dow